The Tip of My Tongue
by Lady.Katie512
Summary: Deacon couldn't risk losing his constant, the thing that kept him sane all these years. The only thing is, he was going to lose her either way.
1. Chapter 1

_You're a red string tied to my finger..._

"Come on," he grumbled, watching the screen of the barely functioning PipBoy flicker off before small green text began scrolling, _again_. He had managed to barter the piece of junk off an ex-dweller of Vault 81 just two days ago for nearly a thousand caps. He used to pride himself with being able to haggle everyone down, but he ended up trekking to Vault 111 with a wounded ego and a better understanding of price gauging.

The screen finally came back on for him and he tried again, gingerly pulling the plug from the PipBoy out and shoving it into the control panel he was standing before. There was a sudden " _click!_ " and the cover for the big red button unlatched itself.

"Finally," he sighed and jammed his fist into the large button. Almost immediately sirens began blaring and he ducked down behind the controls, wondering if he had messed something up. Instead, the massive Vault 111 door pulled backwards and began to roll off to the side, opening the vault to Deacon.

His heart sped up, unsure what he would find in the last known but unexplored vault of the Commonwealth. The moment he learned about it he was hooked, gathering as much information as he could. So far, there wasn't much except that almost 90% of the Commonwealth believed it to be destroyed or that all the dwellers had died. He soon believed the latter to be true, noting the dry skeletons of Vault-Tec employees strewn about the vault. He did find an odd absence of actual Dwellers, be they corpses or living, and a quick hack into a terminal gave him more information.

There had been some sort of mutiny, after the Vault was supposed to open in 2078, however the Overseer was never given an OK. There wasn't much else on any of the other terminals and everything, all entries he could find ended on the same day. He did, however, learn the fate of the Dwellers. When the bombs fell in 2077, the Dwellers were tricked into being frozen in Cryopods, and that's where they remained, for two centuries.

He searched them all, not finding a single survivor, as his mind raced with thoughts of talking to a person who lived before this apocalypse. Not willing to give up, he checked the last pods, the terminal making his heart skip a beat when it said there was one sole survivor, one living and breathing relic still alive, an Artemis Wright. She was across from her husband, Nate Wright, and infant son Shaun, according to the terminal.

However this was not the case when Deacon made his way down the row of dead Dwellers. There was in fact a man across from the pod he was headed to, however there was no infant, just a bloody and frozen bullet wound in his chest.

Holding his breath, he turned around and walked up to Artemis. He expected her to be holding the infant, but instead she had both of her hands frozen to the door of her Cryopod. She looked as if she had been frozen in the middle of screaming, her body slumped awkwardly to one side, mouth slightly open, dark and thin eyebrows knitted together, her black hair askew with frost.

Deacon looked back to her husband and couldn't help but wonder why someone would want him dead, and where the hell was the kid? He double checked the other pods and nobody looked disturbed, not like Artemis, and nobody was shot like Nate. And nobody was missing, like the infant Shaun.

In the end he couldn't brig himself to wake the woman up, unsure if she would live through the defrosting or not. Instead he did the next best thing and made his way back to the surface. He was heading for Sanctuary Hills, the old neighborhood the vault overlooked, wondering if there was any remnants of Artemis' life there.

He was caught off guard, something that never happened to him, as he walked down the old street, looking for a mailbox marked "Wright".

"Good day to you, sir," he heard and turned on his heel, stopping before he could pull his pistol from his waistband. The object that greeted him was an old pre-war model of Mr. Handy. Deacon blinked a few times beneath his sunglasses, shocked by the odd scene of the robot trimming some bushes outside the house he was looking for.

He cleared his throat before responding. "Good day to you as well... Is Artemis home?"

"Artemis?" The Mr. Handy asked, stopping his task to float closer to Deacon, who gripped the handle of his pistol tighter, unsure if this would work or if the robot would go haywire and try to hack him to pieces with his buzz-saw arm.

"Or Nate? The Wrights? This is their house, correct?"

The Mr. Handy was silent to him, his three eyes dialing before he shocked himself back into a response. "Yes of course you have the 'Wright' house!" The robot joked and Deacon almost smiled, were it not for his dismay. "You must be the electrician I've sent for. Or are you the plumber? However I'm afraid that they are out for the day. Would you like me to notify them when they come home of your arrival?"

Deacon's jaw almost hit the pavement. This wasn't happening, how could he be so lucky? "It shouldn't take long, surely I'll be in and out before they get home, right? No sense in rescheduling," he played along and followed the robot into the home.

While staring an a nearly disintegrated electrical box in the home, Deacon was able to weasel out some more information out of the robot, to the point where he accepted some "tea" from him (it was a broken teacup filled with filthy water and ash). Deacon managed to learn what Nate had done and, more importantly, what Artemis had done, for a living. He found out how the couple met, the date of their wedding anniversary, when they became pregnant with their son, even the emergency cesarean Artemis had when she was barely thirty weeks along.

Deacon must have had a conversation with the robot for three hours before it began getting dark and he felt he had everything he needed.

"Thank you again for the tea, Codsworth!" He waved at the robot.

"Don't forget to let your superiors know of the situation here, we are in dire need of repairs. No reflection on your work of course!" The robot called back before Deacon left, debating on heading back to the vault or to the Railroad headquarters. In a split second decision he decided to head for Cambridge, deciding to gather more information on what a lawyer was and what Artemis studied.

* * *

Twelve years. Twelve years he had stared at her face, read the same books she had, walked the same roads she had. He had visited every place he knew Artemis had visited, be it her college, the law firm she worked at, the hospital she gave birth in. He even found her and her husband's names listed in a registry for the military in an emergency supply station. Twelve years had passed and now, he stood, heart racing and mouth dry, in front of her Cryopod. He had ran endless situations through his head, countless scenarios for talking to her, actually releasing her. Deacon, however failed to imaginable the situation he was in.

He had caught wind of the Institute's piked interest in this vault from a dead drop and nearly ran the whole way here, expecting Artemis to be gone or, even worse, dead. Twelve years. Twelve years and he had no idea what to say to her. Twelve years and he had no idea how to act. Twelve years and he still wasn't prepared to meet Artemis.

"Do something you asshole!" He screamed at himself, shaking as he stared at her. His hands ran over his shaved head, trying to wipe away the anxiety he felt. _Twelve years_. Deacon wasn't going to let anybody take her away from him. He wasn't going to lose something this precious to him again. It pained him, but the truth was that he had been preoccupied with "Project Wanderer", as Desdemona spitefully named Deacon's constant absence, longer than he had known his dead wife.

He exhaled and turned quickly, making his way to the terminal, as if he could walk away from the thought. His fingers shook terribly as he typed in the commands, finally bringing Artemis back to life. As soon as he heard her pod hiss and open he couldn't handle himself anymore and disappeared, literally. He had chickened out and popped a stealthboy on, remaining invisible as he watched the woman choke and fall to her knees out of her pod. He stayed silent as she screamed her husband's name. He moved silently when she frantically ran to the terminal he had been using to try and free Nate. He stayed unseen while she pulled him out, fell over, and cried on the ground with his frozen head in her lap.

Deacon stayed and watched, feeling his gut wretch and his heart sink as Artemis held Nate and cried for hours. And finally, Deacon followed a frightened Artemis out of the vault and to her new life.


	2. Chapter 2

Two

" _A little love letter I carry with me..."_

Deacon took a long drag from the cigarette he had lit and held the burning, scratching, smoke in his lungs. She was there, she was ten feet from him, watching that nuisance reporter and the definite Synth Mayor of Diamond City bicker. Her black bangs barely covered her delicate eyebrows. Her hazel blue eyes were covered in shadows behind a pair of old glasses as she watched on patiently, waiting for a time to butt in and ask about Nick Valentine. This was as close as Deacon had even been to her after she left the vault and he ran for the hills, literally. He was pissed off at himself for acting like he had. There were so many ways he could have handled the situation better, he could have just brought her back to HQ, instead of having to drop hints for her everywhere. He could have been there for her in the vault, instead of stalking her around the Commonwealth.

Deacon exhaled before he began to choke, feeling his head start to spin from the lack of oxygen. The cigarette was already working for him, however. Calming him down and stopping him from shaking underneath his Diamond City Guard disguise. He backed his way towards the staircase as the mayor left in a huff and Piper talked Artemis into doing an interview after she went to find Nick. Deacon already knew he wasn't in, but had also double checked that the two citizens were waiting for her by his door like he payed them to be, hoping they could sound legit when arguing about the Railroad.

"Excuse me," Piper said, pushing past him and bringing him back to reality. She might as well have shouted "Move!" at him by the way she walked past. He shook his head, looking back to Artemis who followed behind her.

"Hi," she said, making her way past as well, and Deacon's cool had completely vanished from the simple two letter word.

"Welcome to the, uh, Great Green Jewel. You'll totally love it here," he blurted out in a near panic and then mentally kicked himself in the ass. He would have slapped himself if Artemis wasn't watching him, an eyebrow quirked.

Deacon had never lost his cool like that, _never._ Artemis wasn't even trying to talk to him, she was just being polite.

"Thanks," she half smiled despite his awkward greeting and she walked past him into the city.

* * *

"What?" Desdemona's voice sounded thought the catacombs. "Somebody's actually at the door? You mean they _actually_ followed the freedom trail?" Deacon looked up from the desk he was at, pretending to work. He felt her eyes burning holes into his sunglasses and he simply shrugged.

"That's what we're thinking. Tom's tracked them for a while, but we didn't think she'd get past the mutants at Fenuil Hall," Drummer Boy advised Des.

"Deacon, what do you know about this?" She asked him and he shrugged again, smiling cheekily.

Des shook her head at him. "I want you out there with me, Glory, and Drummer Boy when she gets inside."

" _If_ she gets inside, boss. Let me finish this and I'll head out there," Deacon told her, managing to look calm while his insides were lighting fire and melting together.

"Look at him, this has to be Project Wanderer, right?" Glory asked Des and Drummer Boy. "All this hard work and now he doesn't want the payoff."

"Project Wanderer is a myth!" He shouted as the three headed out, staring at the random papers he had strewn on the desk, his hand beginning to shake as he held the pen he was using to doodle with.

After a few minutes of agonizing silence the overhead lights flickered, meaning that Artemis had actually made it inside. He let go of a breath he wasn't aware he was holding and stood up, wiping his sweaty palms off on the white shirt he had on.

"Okay, Deacon, okay," he breathed to himself, making his way out to the entrance.

"Who told you how to contact us?" He heard Des interrogating Artemis as he rounded the corner, walking slowly into the conversation.

"I helped Karl out of a jam. He knows a guy, who knows a guy, and they hooked me up with a lead," he heard Artemis answer, not faltering in her words or pacing. Deacon was impressed. He figured that she would be able to catch a lie, but not weave one as well. Especially not to Desdemona.

"We'll look into that. I'm Desdemona, and I'm the leader of the Railroad. And you..." Des seemingly bought the lie and Deacon was even more impressed, almost forgetting his nerves. He purposefully kicked a rock once he was near enough and Des whipped around. "Deacon, where've you been?"

"You're having a party. What gives with my invitation?" He smiled at her, noting that Glory rolled her eyes and Drummer Boy shook his head with a slight smile.

"I need intel. Who is this?" Des asked him, completely ignoring the fact that she had been the one who told him to come along.

"Well, she's got to be someone. She made it down here, right? Normal people just don't do that," he tried to stress, failing to come up with anything noteworthy about Artemis besides being well over two centuries old and having a better education than anyone in the room, even if she was only a junior in college when the world went to hell. In reality, this whole "Follow the Freedom Trail" was designed by Deacon for her specifically.

"What's the big deal?" Artemis asked him, cocking her head slightly. Only then did he realize that pesky reporter was with her, Piper. _God. Damn. It._

"Either you figured how to slip by bad guys, ghouls, et al, so you're smart," Deacon continued, trying to forget about Piper for the time being. "Or you blasted a path straight through. In which case, tough. Either way, kind of impressive." He still spoke directly to Artemis, his eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses that only showed Artemis her reflection, Deacon focusing only on her.

"What? Normal people can't figure out your decoder ring out front?" Artemis sarcastically asked him, a smile forming and he wanted to burst out laughing, forgetting how nervous he was before. Instead he remained cool.

"These days, being able to spell 'Railroad' is cause for celebration." Artemis and Piper glanced at one another and Piper shrugged with a small nod.

"So you got nothing? She's a complete unknown?" Des asked him. He started to worry then maybe he was playing this all too well, he thought for sure she'd know this _was_ "Project Wanderer".

"What are our options?" He asked, looking from his boss to Glory and Drummer Boy, "Shoot them? We need friends, Des. Now more than ever. And I got a _real_ good feeling about her." Maybe he had laid it on a little too think now.

"What? Are you vouching for her?" Des asked, fully turning to him.

"Yes," he didn't hesitate. "Definitely."

"Project Wanderer," Glory mouthed to to him and Drummer Boy shook his head again, chuckling quietly in amusement. So this was it, Deacon's "little" project was out.

"Fine," Des sighed. "That changes things," she looked back to Artemis and Piper. Deacon himself made his way down to their level, done with his part of the plan for now. "I don't know what, if anything, you've heard out there about us. You know what a Synth is, right?"

"Yeah," Artemis answered, placing a hand on her hip. "I know about them."

"Good. The Institute treats Synths like property, like tools."

"Do you know why?" Artemis asked Des, and Deacon couldn't keep his eyes off her, it was so strange to see her alive and speaking in front of him. She was actually here in the flesh, all because of him.

"They're playing God! Tinkering with things they don't fully understand. From that lofty vantage its easy to deny their creation's very humanity."

"That... Sounds like slavery," Artemis said with a realization.

"Exactly," Desdemona's face lit up (despite actually being lit up), "So we seek to free the Synths from their bondage. Give them a chance, at a real life... I have a question. The only question that matters. Would you risk your life for you fellow man? Even if that man was a Synth?"

"I risk my life for people every day, it makes no difference if they're a man or a Synth," Artemis responded and Deacon clenched his jaw to keep from beaming. This was perfect. Artemis was _perfect_.

"Well said. Deacon was right about us, we do need more 'friends', but..." Desdemona began and Deacon spun around to look at her. No no no, this was perfect what's going wrong now? "Right now, we don't have the time to train up a new agent. There are however, other valuable ways, you can contribute. See Deacon for details. You're free to go."

Artemis watched Desdemona walk away, leaving Glory and Drummer Boy behind, before making her way to Deacon. He was not expecting the twist Des threw at him, but was able to keep calm, finally, around Artemis.

"Hope you didn't mind the reception," he smiled at her, "When you tangle with the Institute, you've got to be careful when someone new gets on the dance floor."

Artemis didn't look too peeved, unlike her companion. "Your leader was just being cautions," she smiled with understanding and Deacon felt a thousand times more relieved.

"I'll take hurt feelings over becoming the Institute's play thing any day," Piper agreed with a nod, Deacon still doing his best to try and ignore her.

"Exactly," Deacon nodded in agreement. "Kind of killed our chance at a friendly first impression though. But it's all good now. I vouched for you, nobody got shot... Still, I would consider it a close personal favor if you didn't sell us out to the Institute. Thanks." Deacon suddenly realized he couldn't stop smiling at her.

"So... Tell me. Why did you vouch for me?" Artemis pried, Deacon was prepared for this but honestly hadn't expected it.

"In our little outfit, it's my job to know things. And with everything you've done, it's clear you're capable. A dangerous enemy. And, I'm betting, a valuable ally," he danced around the words, barely saying anything.

"But why the trust? You can't be taking it all on faith?" She continued, but Deacon's demeanor didn't falter.

"I don't know if we can trust you, but I hope we can. We just survived a hell of a crisis. So we may be just a teeny weeny bit desperate for new members. If everything was sunshine and bottle caps, we'd probably play a longer 'get to know you' game. But we don't have that luxury." Everything he said was the truth, just not the answer to her question.

Artemis realized this. "Really? Is that all?" Her head cocked slightly and her hand went back to her hip.

"You just don't give up," he smirked at her, "Alright, I have a short list of people I think would be a good fit for our family. You piqued my interest, so maybe I asked around," Deacon explained. That's as far as he could go. "I stalked you for twelve years while you were frozen" definitely wouldn't play into his hand. "I did my homework. If you hadn't found us, there's a chance I would have found you instead. Thanks for saving me a trip." He made a quick transition before Artemis could question him further. "So Des wants me to make you a Tourist... That's what we call someone who helps out with the odd job here and there. What a waste. I'm just gonna come out and say this: The Railroad needs you," he stressed to her.

"You sure you need me?" Artemis crossed her arms. "Desdemona didn't seem to care."

About now, strangling Des sounded delightfully pleasant. "She's just thinking of the time and manpower it would take to train you. And if you were some hick from the burbs that didn't know your ass from a rocket launcher, she'd be right." Artemis actually laughed at that stupid joke, causing warmth to bloom in his chest and spread to his limbs. He could tell the sound was addictive and he had only heard it once.

"I'm just willing to bet you need a few pointers and a target," Deacon's mouth plowed on despite his body's reaction to her. "Look, I'll tell you the game plan, then you decide. I've got a job, too big for me, just perfect for the two of us," he stressed the number while glancing from Artemis to Piper and back. "You help me out, we turn a few heads, then Des invites you into the fold."

"So what's the job?" Artemis asked, he figured she would.

"Upfront, the only thing I'll say is it's going to be a wild and dangerous ride. But probably nothing new for someone like you."

Artemis was silent for a moment before glancing to Piper. "Don't ask me," she told Artemis, before looking to Deacon and saying, " _No comment_ ," in a slightly dumb voice. Deacon shrugged, ignoring Piper's mocking statement.

"Sign me up then," Artemis agreed and Deacon felt relief wash over him.

"Perfecto. Lets meet up at the old freeway outside Lexington. Two days, I'll fill you in then." Artemis didn't verbally respond, but glanced up to Glory, still aiming her minigun, before backing out of the room with Piper.

"Still have to shove that in their faces after Des made her a tourist, huh?" Deacon asked her as he made his way back into HQ. The smile he had was finally gone completely from his lips.

"So how long did it take you to get her through the front door again? Twelve years?" Glory asked him right back.


	3. Chapter 3

" _You're sunlight, smoke rings, and cigarettes..."_

"Wanderer."

She was staring at him again. She almost always stared at him, during downtime, stealing glances during missions, even talking face to face. He thought the first few times she was trying to size him up, but eventually it began to make him... Uncomfortable? No, that's the wrong word...

"Deacon," she responded, catching herself and her hazel blue eyes jolted down to her bowl, her cheek resting on her fist. The folded piece of paper sat next to her bowl, untouched. She had been too afraid to open it.

"Don't use the code unless you absolutely have to," Deacon had told her hours earlier, "It'll wipe my memories. I'm not sure how much of me will even be left." Artemis had this nagging feeling that Deacon was playing her for some gullible little girl. She also had this pit of fear growing in her stomach, if this was the one time he wasn't messing with her she could screw up everything.

"So... Are you gonna eat that?" Deacon asked her, for a moment she thought he was going to ask if she had read his "code" or not.

"No," Artemis decided, pushing away her nearly untouched noodle bowl.

"Nan-ni shimasho-ka?" The Protectron dubbed Takahashi waddled over to her, mistaking her gesture as wanting a second helping.

She ignored the Protectron, standing from her seat and pushed the damned piece of paper over to Deacon. "I decided I don't need this," she told him. The solution was simple, real or not she no longer had to worry and already felt relief. She wasn't risking loosing her best friend anymore, even if her best friend was an extremely attractive, lying, asshole.

"Wanderer," Deacon sighed as she walked away towards Piper's house, where they were crashing. She was halfway to the front door before Deacon caught up to her. "Did you even read it?" he asked her, moving into her path so she wouldn't continue into Piper's home.

"I don't need to, Deacon," she placed her hands on her hips and cocked her head at him. Her shinny black hair shifted as she did, glinting in the lights above Diamond City while their glare caught in her glasses. "You're lying to me. I'm not that gullible."

"Alright," he threw his hands up in surrender, "You got me. Don't take it personally, I lie to everyone."

"And here I thought I was special," Artemis said flatly, hiding her immense relief in the fact that Deacon couldn't be deleted with some random phrase.

"Look, if you'll believe anything I tell you, believe this; I'm in your corner. Always have been." Deacon tried to sound honest and sincere, however Artemis only bought it as another one of his lies.

"Right now," her hands fell off of her hips, "you're just in my way," she pushed past him and continued on to the door of Piper's home.

"But it's early," he whined. He was exhausted though, they hadn't had a full, restful night of sleep in almost five days while on their last run, planting a few MILAs for Tom and securing some DIA caches for Pam. After twelve years of mostly sitting on his ass deciphering Law textbooks and reading fiction like Proust, Shakespeare, and the monster that was War and Peace (only because Artemis had done a book report on less than a quarter of it her freshman year of college), Deacon wasn't used to the amount of trouble he and Artemis found themselves in. She was just over half his age, plus two-hundred-ten years, and she was exhausting.

"You don't wanna... Run the bases?" Deacon asked, his mind failing to find anything entertaining to do in Diamond City besides watching drunks in the Duggout Inn.

Artemis' hand was on Piper's door handle when she looked back to him with an eyebrow raised and her breath caught in her throat, until she realized he was speaking in a literal sense. "Run the bases?" she asked, her eyes peeking out from between the rim of her glasses and her thick bangs.

"All the kids are doing it," Deacon shrugged, unfamiliar with the colloquialism.

Artemis wasn't sure if he was playing dumb or if the "bases" have actually faded from everyone's vocabulary in two-hundred years. It was impossible to tell when Deacon was lying or hiding something, however she had a sinking feeling in her gut that he genuinely didn't know and wasn't intentionally hitting on her.

"That's a horrible idea, Deacon," She said and turned around, walking through the door.

"I know," Deacon muttered to himself. He just wanted any excuse to not be berated with questions from Piper.

With a sigh, he walked forward into Piper's home. "No comment," he said immediately as he saw Piper and Artemis chatting in the entrance.

"I wasn't saying anything to you, ass," Piper quickly retorted, raising her voice. Deacon stifled a chuckle, only to hear Artemis' own laughter. "Why do you even bring him here?"

"I don't," Artemis said with a smile, watching Deacon plop down onto one of Piper's couches. "He just follows me around like a lost dog."

"Aww man," Deacon screwed his face up as if he were displeased. "At least name me a lost... Yow gee... Yow genie... Yo guy."

"YAU GUI?" Piper over enunciated the words, looking completely shocked. Artemis continued to laugh, the main goal of the conversation. "Why do you travel with _him_?" Piper asked, turning back to Artemis.

"Because he's choice entertainment," Artemis smiled, watching Piper roll her hazel eyes.

"C'mon. Let me show you what I've been working on." She turned heel and started for the stairs, her red coat she always had on twirling around her body. Artemis threw a glance at Deacon, half expecting some witty comeback, however she only received a flash if his pearly white, shit-eating grin and her own reflection slightly obscure and warped in his shades.

* * *

"So is this what pre-war cooking was like?" Piper asked standing next to Artemis, watching her scramble up Radscorpion eggs for breakfast.

"Hardly, for one we used stoves not hotplates. And scorpions were smaller than your hands. Most of them," Artemis answered, feeling the itch to add something, _anything_ , to the frying pan so that the insect eggs wouldn't be so... Insect egg-like.

"Piper, your curiosity is showing," Deacon chided from the couch, lounging next to Nat who was proofreading some of Piper's work.

Piper looked worried for a second before realizing he had said "curiosity" instead of something actually embarrassing. "It's not like you have anything interesting to say," Piper turned her back to him and intensely focused on Artemis, who was dicing up a tato to add into the eggs.

"It's called investigative journalism," Nat told Deacon without lifting her eyes from the paper she had her nose in.

"More like nosey journalism," Deacon mumbled, noticing the smile cracking on Artemis' face. He wouldn't have to try too hard to get her to laugh.

"More like _boring_ journalism," Nat said next to him and Deacon realized he wasn't far off from laughing either, chuckling lowly. It wasn't a true statement, however. Since Piper's first article featuring Artemis and her heart-breaking tale of becoming a human popsicle and losing her family, Diamond City loved her. Anything Pre-war, even cooking eggs, was fascinating. Deacon had gone through that phase for a while. When he was doing his research on Artemis' life he had become engrossed for months in how her regular daily life would have looked like. The pre-war phase he went through had a steep incline almost a year in actually, as he was reading through a federal law textbooks that Artemis would have studied the year the bombs fell. Abruptly, Deacon had realized that the words he was reading made no Goddamn sense, and that realization led him to another: he could hardly retain anything from the text books he had read. The fiction however, that was a different story.

"Hey beautiful," he would stroll into the vault sometimes, thinking that just being around her could help him understand the law text better. "You're crazy for trying to get this stuff. I mean, how the hell is this supposed to tell you if someone deserves to go to jail? Just use common sense..." he would pace around, holding those heavy books for hours, re-reading the same pages over and over.

"Hey beautiful, what does it mean when-"

The memory was interrupted by Artemis holding a plate of Radscorpion eggs and fried tatos under his nose. "Thanks, beautiful," he said quickly and nearly dropped the plate when he realized what he said. The lazy smile on his face didn't falter but his heart stopped.

Artemis didn't respond verbally, instead an adorable blush crept across her cheeks and she turned around quickly to get herself a plate.

"Nat, food," Piper said, two plates in either hand. She plopped one down in front of Nat's feet on the coffee table and the other remained her focus as she sat next to her younger sister. Nat quickly set down the paper she was engrossed in and started eating the food as quick as Piper.

"So Deacon," Piper started, already half done with her breakfast as Artemis returned with her own plate and two dinner forks.

"No comment," he said quickly, not bothering to face her. He took one of the forks from Artemis as she squeezed herself onto the couch next to him.

"So is the Railroad concerned at all about the Institute-"

"No Comment," Deacon said again and quickly filled his mouth with food. Unsurprisingly it was _good_. Artemis insisted she wasn't a good cook but whenever she made _real food_ , it was amazing. Compared at least to stale over processed junk-food.

"-Using Synths to infiltrate the Commonwealth's food supply?" Piper persisted.

"No comment," Deacon managed through a mouthful of food. He had avoided all of Piper's questions up until now, half an hour before he was free from her house.

"They could possibly be poisoning hundreds," Piper persisted.

"Are we talking about this while we're eating breakfast?" Artemis came to his aid.

"I don't know, are we?" Piper asked back but she was looking at Deacon. With his mouth full, Deacon shook his head "no". He managed to dissuade Piper until it was finally time to pick up and leave.

"Thanks again, Piper," Artemis hugged her friend as they stood outside the home.

"It's no problem, just... Try to ditch baldy next time," Piper grimaced in Deacon's direction and he would have laughed if he didn't feel folded up paper being shoved into his relaxed hand.

He looked down to see Nat standing next to him, looking nonchalant. Deacon imitated her, even going so far as to whistle inconspicuously as he shoved the paper into his jeans pocket. Nat and Piper left then, heading for the school house.

"That kid doesn't need school, she's too smart already," Artemis mused, turning to Deacon. "What did she give you?"

"You saw that huh?" Deacon asked. "Thought it was pretty sneaky."

"Either that or you gave her something," Artemis leaned against one of the posts holding the awning up in front of Piper's home. Deacon reached back onto his pocket and felt another piece of paper there, pulling it out and giving it to Artemis instead. He only hoped she wouldn't get mad at him.

"You can't trust..." Artemis read aloud as she unfolded the paper. Her hazel blue eyes shooting up to him over the rim of her glasses. Deacon felt his stomach twist at the sight of her stony face, watching as she balled the piece of paper up and tossed it into the street before walking away from him, towards Diamond City's exit.

"Wanderer," Deacon sighed, watching her leave before his feet picked up and automatically followed her. "Wait," he called after her, catching up to her as she reached the top of the stadium stairs, leading to the box office. "Artemis, hold up." He never used her name, and she took notice, finally stopping to turn around, both of her hands on her hips. The look she was giving him made Deacon think that she would have been a damn good mom, despite how young she looked.

"Why should I trust you then?" She asked him.

Deacon swallowed, feeling his mouth dry out. _Maybe you shouldn't. I'm just some asshole who's stalked you for twelve years._ "Did I have you going?" He asked instead, and Artemis rolled her eyes, but didn't walk away from him. "Don't take it personal, I lie to everyone." Deacon took a chance and took a few steps closer to the angry woman before him. "Maybe I'm just a human that has people back home he wants to protect. Then again," his voice changed into a terrible impression of a robot, hoping to get that magical sound out of Artemis, "maybe not."

She didn't laugh, but a smile had almost broke the straight line her lips were pressed into. "You scared the shit out of me, Deeks," she told him honestly, and it was genuinely confusing to him.

"My relationship with the truth rubs some people the wrong way. But believe this one thing: I'm in your corner," he continued anyways. It was the whole point to this "recall code" anyways. "I always have been. Not everyone can say that. That "code" I gave you is a hard truth. You can't trust everyone. Even if someone sounds sincere, they could be a Synth replacement, working for the Institute."

He was next to her now, speaking quieter. "The bitch of the problem is recognizing the ninety percent of the time someone's on the up and up and the ten percent of the time you're being played."

"Fine. But you could have just told me all that," Artemis shrugged, one of her hands falling from her waist as her head tilted slightly.

"Wouldn't have gotten the point across as well," Deacon smiled at her and she returned it, her pearly whites beaming and Deacon felt better about the whole thing.

"So what did Nat give you?" Artemis asked him, all of her anger now completely gone.

"Dunno," Deacon pulled the paper out of his pocket and unfolded it to find a fairly well drawn cartoon of an angry Yao Guai and a bald man running away screaming "Yow Gee!"

Laughter erupted from his chest as he handed the paper to Artemis and her laughter entwined with his. "Oh damn that's great!" She quickly composed herself. "This is getting framed and put up in HQ."


	4. Chapter 4

Four

" _Old lines and kisses from silver screens..."_

He hadn't said a word to her since they arrived at the church. Once all was clear, it was an agonizing four hours until Old Man Stockton would show up with the "package". Artemis had been staring at him for about two, Deacon's back to her as he chain-smoked cigarettes while leaning against one of the windows and watching the Commonwealth. She studied him in the road leathers he was wearing, a black Pompadour wig atop his head. There was something about the way he stood, with his arms resting against the windowsill and how one of his knees bent slightly, the toe of his boot digging into the dirty floor below him. Something about it was just... Irresistible.

A loud groan left Artemis and she snapped her eyes shut, rubbing her face with her slightly dirty hands, leaving her glasses askew. What was wrong with her, why was she so into her partner? She knew next to nothing about him, he made sure of that and yet she couldn't stop thinking about him and she couldn't keep her eyes off of him.

She fixed her glasses and stared up at the ceiling as she laid down on her pew. However, she could barely fight the urge to look at Deacon again, knowing that she had gained his attention with her frustrated sigh. Artemis had never wanted anyone so badly just to be... Utterly and completely ignored.

She got off the pew then, keeping her eyes straight ahead and walked to the back of the church and up the stairs, trying to escape Deacon and the growing fire in her gut. Artemis had already looked through all the junk when her and Deacon first arrived, but it was something to keep herself occupied. Not even half an hour in, she was already bored and her mind was on nothing but Deacon.

"What is wrong with me?" She sighed to herself, while pacing around the upper floor of the church. She couldn't escape him and his cigarettes, a smell that use to be unsavory and even repulsive to her was now filling the church and she didn't mind, she liked it even.

Eventually, Artemis found herself as far as possible from Deacon and his cigarette smoke, high up in the church steeple. The sun had set by this time and Artemis was leaning against the peeling black painted wood, one of her legs out in front of her and the other dangling over the ledge. She had managed to calm herself down and felt like her head was slowly clearing when the smell of cigarettes suddenly hit her nose.

She started to sigh before being startled by a voice. "Looks like you found a sniper's paradise."

"Yeah, MacCready would love this place," Artemis loosened her tight grip on the wood around her as she kept her balance.

"I was thinking you and me," Deacon replied, hoisting himself onto the wooden wall that surrounded the steeple. "Could've sniped all those raider bastards from up here, no problem."

"Mac is a better sniper than you," Artemis teased him. She was just happy Deacon was talking to her. Maybe the boredom had gotten to him as well.

"That kid has nothing on me, Wanderer. I can out shoot him any day," Deacon responded but Artemis noticed something. Underneath his joking, laid back demeanor he looked... Irked?

"I don't know Deeks, I've seen him do some pretty amazing things with his rifle and a few fifty cals." What this what it took? Did she have to make him jealous just to keep his attention?

"Amazing?" Deacon laughed at her. "Sound's like someone's crushing."

 _On you, yeah._ "Maybe," Artemis bit her lip, folding her arms over her chest.

Deacon rose his eyebrows behind his sunglasses, looking shocked. " _Maybe?_ "

"He's hot okay?" Artemis falsely admitted. Sure MacCready was cute but the dude _killed people_ for no reason other than he was paid to do it. Artemis looked away from Deacon, feigning embarrassment, but she wanted to watch his face, she wanted to see his reaction to the random admission.

"He... MacCready.. You think-?" Deacon didn't finish. She was almost afraid he saw through the lie, recognized what she was doing. Instead he continued with "Stockton's here." Artemis looked over to where Deacon had pointed and saw Old Man Stockton and another man, presumably the "package", nearing the church. "C'mon."

She followed Deacon back down through the church, meeting Stockton and the Synth near the entrance. "Everything looks clear," he greeted Artemis and Deacon. "This is H2-22. H2, these are the agents I was telling you about."

"Hey there buddy," Deacon smiled, but Artemis' eyebrows were pushed together with a slight frown.

"Hi," she greeted him, wondering why he didn't have an actual name yet, and why he looked so timid.

"I'll fire up the signal," Stockton said as he walked over to a lantern sat on some books in a window. The Synth refugee didn't greet Artemis and Deacon back, and in the dark she could see him shaking with fear. "It's time for me to go. Keep H2 safe. Someone will be here shortly," Stockton instructed and Deacon sighed.

"Yay, more waiting," he looked to Artemis as Stockton quickly left.

"Hey, are you alright?" Artemis asked the Synth.

"It's probably safer if I don't say anything. I don't want to put you two in any more danger," He responded quietly and Artemis looked to Deacon again.

"You're safe with us bud, don't worry," Deacon reassured H2 with a carefree smile. "Wanderer here is a great shot."

"All Deacon's good for is talking," Artemis shrugged, smiling at H2 as well.

"Thank you," The Synth said politely. "You have no idea how nice it is just to talk to someone..."

"Hey," a fourth voice caught Artemis by surprise and her and Deacon both spun around to face the entrance with their weapon's drawn. "Don't shoot!"

"High Rise, shit man," Deacon said with relief, slinging his rifle over his shoulder to greet the newcomer with a casual handshake.

"Deacon, still got that same face, huh?" High Rise greeted him back. "Is this Wanderer?"

"Yeah," Artemis responded, lowering her pistol.

"Well well. I heard about you, walked the Freedom Trail, Cleared the Switchboard. Glad you joined the team, you're quite the catch."

Artemis smiled at him, this was perfect. Even if Deacon caught her bluff with MacCready, he couldn't deny this. "You look like quite the catch yourself," she admitted with her pistol in one hand by her side, her other on her hip and her head slightly cocked, sizing up the newcomer. She didn't fail to notice how Deacon's face fell straight to the filthy floorboards of the church. "Nice to make your acquaintance."

"The pleasure is all mine," High Rise responded and shook her outstretched hand, holding it slightly longer than he had Deacon's. "Let's have a look at our friend here," his attention was drawn to the Synth.

"He's hot," Artemis mouthed behind High Rise's back to Deacon and watched him fail to smile, the corners of his mouth only twitching. She wished she could see his eyes behind those sunglasses.

"Hey you. You okay?" High Rise asked H2, talking a few steps towards him.

"A little rattled. The other man... He said I shouldn't talk too much."

"He told you right H2. You'll need a real name, and a new face, but we'll get to that." He turned back to Artemis and Deacon. "There's some raiders behind me. Afraid we need a little more help.

"Sounds like fun," Artemis glanced at Deacon.

"Damn, you HQ heavies mean business," High Rise smiled at her again, looking from her pistol to her smile. "We need to get to Ticonderoga Safe House. My home."

"Lets get going then, ready H2?" Artemis asked and the Synth nodded. "Deeks?"

"Lady's first," Deacon had managed to wipe most of the shock from his face, his rifle back in his hands.

* * *

"So... There a reason HQ is calling her 'Wanderer'?" High Rise asked Deacon as Artemis and H2 headed up stairs for the beds.

Deacon turned to look at High Rise, his eyes narrowed but hidden behind his sunglasses. "Not for the reason you think," he answered with a low voice.

"She was laying it on kinda thick, did you piss her off or...?" High Rise asked rubbing the back of his head as he backed up and collapsed onto a nearby couch.

"She ain't mine," Deacon clarified further and took a seat next to him with a sigh.

"Why not?" High Rise sounded shocked. "Have you taken a look at her without those grimy shades?"

"You know the rules man," Deacon shook his head.

"There's nothing the alpha says that tells us agents we can't mingle a little."

"It's not a good idea. We're partners." _Also I'm twice her age, she doesn't know anything about me, I'd never forgive myself if I caused her any harm, she's looking for a son she thinks is an infant but I know is at least twelve if not_ dead _, by the way I stalked her for twelve years while she was frozen in Vault 111._

Deacon rubbed his forehead, feeling all the reasons he and Artemis shouldn't be together get pushed aside by sheer, and absolutely dangerous, desire.

"Okay man. I'll lay off her for you though. She's way into you," High Rise patted him on the back.

"Shut up," Deacon said flatly.

"Have you seen the way she looks at you?" High Rise asked with a laugh. "She either idolizes you or wants in your pants. Maybe both."

Deacon had noticed, he wasn't dumb. Half of him was thrilled and the other half was scared. He hadn't wanted to run from something so badly in years. The only reason he stuck around was because he couldn't imagine a day without Artemis now that he had her out and about with him. It was hard enough to stay away from her when she was frozen.

"Thanks," Deacon finally answered, not knowing what else to do or say. First Artemis was about ready to spill her heart about being in love with a merc, and now she was suddenly all over an agent he (almost) wouldn't hesitate to call his friend. He couldn't shake the feeling that this was all just a show for him, but then there was the very real worry that this wasn't just one of Artemis' ruses.

"Good luck with her," High Rise clapped Deacon on his leather clad shoulder. "Get some rest, we had a long night."

Deacon only nodded at him, watching High Rise slowly make his way up the steps from the lobby they were in. Deacon himself sunk further into the couch with a sigh. He didn't feel like he would get much sleep that night.

Still, the next morning Deacon woke up with a start as he heard a sharp "ding!" as the elevator was powered up.

"There's beds upstairs, you know," he heard Boxer's voice call down to him and Deacon rubbed his eyes beneath his sunglasses.

"Yeah, I know," he yawned, noticing a sharp ache in his neck. He rubbed at it with his hand as he stood up.

"Breakfast," Boxer nodded, indicating Deacon to follow her. "That new heavy that's with you, Wanderer? She's great. You should have stopped by sooner," Boxer continued, walking at Deacon's groggy pace.

"Yeah, you know I love me some long, lazy, dull days. Not Wanderer though," Deacon admitted.

"That why they call her Wanderer?" Boxer asked him.

"Should be. Every day she makes me walk at least five miles," Deacon rubbed at his neck again as he caught sight of Artemis seated at the bar in the kitchen next to H2-22, with High Rise frying something up on the stove.

"That's a complete lie, don't listen to him," Artemis sounded over the Diamond City Radio playing from her Pipboy. "He's never heard music before, like ever," Artemis continued, meaning the Synth.

"Really now?" Deacon asked, acting surprised, but he has seen it before. This was Artemis' first Synth escapee, for Deacon it was closer to his twentieth. Even more for Boxer and High Rise.

H2-22 shook his head "no" as the next song kicked in.

"You've got to accentuate the positive, eliminate the negative," High Rise sang in tune with the music. Deacon watched Artemis join in slightly off key and started dancing in her seat. It was a humorous sight, a show for H2, but Deacon was the one who was enthralled.

"You've got to spread joy up to the maxim-!" Artemis continued on, noticing how much H2 was enjoying it. She was cut off, however, gasping the last syllable of the lyric as High Rise set a mug down in front of her and poured her a hot cup of coffee.

"Is this real?" Artemis picked the mug up and smelled the coffee inside.

"'Course it's real, only the best from ol' Slocum's for my guests," High Rise answered, _winking_ at her as he poured his sister a cup as she sat next to Artemis.

In an instant Deacon went from stable to fuming, almost feeling as if something had physically snapped inside of him.

"H2, want to try some coffee?" High Rise continued.

"N-no thank you," the Synth answered politely.

"Deacon?"

"Thought you were gonna _lay off_ the caffeine, High Rise," Deacon answered, trying to conceal his sudden flare of emotion.

He looked over at Deacon as he poured a cup and his face dropped. "Oh yeah. Special occasion though," High Rise shrugged, walking to Deacon to give him his mug.

"Lay off caffeine? What the hell?" Boxer asked, gingerly sipping the hot coffee she had as she rose an eyebrow at her brother.

"Mild insomnia, keeps me up later than I'd like," High Rise lied quickly and Deacon pushed off the door frame he was leaning on to follow and lean on the kitchen counter instead so he'd be directly in front of Artemis.

"Because you drink it at six in the evening," Boxer mumbled back.

"Institute keeps us on our toes," High Rise defended himself.

"Oh, I know what you mean though," Artemis said, half of her coffee already gone. Deacon shaking is head caught her attention and she stopped and switched gears. Deacon glanced at Boxer, who had an old magazine in front of her, and at High Rise, who was busy frying up some mirelurk steaks. He trusted these folks with everything but personal information, especially Artemis' personal information. He already knew the Institute had a piked interest in her, so the less anyone knew about her the better.

"H2, you should really try some coffee," she handed her mug to him. "You'll regret it forever if you don't," she pressed and the Synth took the mug.

"Cheers buddy," Deacon rose his own mug in a small toast. "It's hot," he added, unsure if H2 had ever had anything warm to eat or drink before.

H2 was cautious as he took a sip from Artemis' mug, and Deacon wanted to laugh at the face he made. "It's horrible," he handed Artemis back the mug with a cough.

"Well..." Artemis too the mug back and finished the coffee off herself. "It's black, no sugar or milk," she defended the drink.

"Ew," Boxer cut in. "Coffee doesn't need anything to be great, huh Deacon?"

"Never had it any other way," Deacon agreed, smiling at Artemis. She returned it, positively beaming at him and for that moment, everything was alright for him.


	5. Chapter 5

Five

" _You own me with whispers like poetry..."  
_

"I'm sorry we didn't get back in time, Wanderer," Deacon told her sincerely as they stood in the entrance to the Memory Den. He wanted to reach out to her, hold her, or hell even pat her on the back but he couldn't. His arms stayed limp and useless by his sides as he just stared at her.

"Yeah, well," Artemis sniffed. Deacon saw that she was doing her damn hardest to not cry after realizing her new Synth buddy had no recollection of her. She ejected the small orange holotape from her Pipboy and shoved it into her pant's pocket.

"Lets get something to drink," Artemis turned around and led the way out of the Memory Den and over to the Third Rail. Deacon followed her silently through the streets of Goodneighbor, nodded at the ghoul bouncer, Ham, on his way down to the Third Rail and then took stride next to Artemis instead of following her.

"Let me talk, okay?" He told her.

Artemis' head tilted towards him, one of her eyebrows raised into her bangs. "You never talk."

"Trust me," Deacon flashed a smile at her. He would have winked but she wouldn't have seen beneath his sun glasses. "Hey, Charlie," he called then, walking up to the bar. Artemis watched on, taking a seat at one of the stools and leaning her elbows on the counter top. "I'd like my usual, from off the menu. Way off." Deacon stood casually next to her, his hands in his jean pockets.

"Listen mate, I don't know you," The Mr. Handy responded with his thick accent, one of his eyes dilating as it focused on Deacon's face, the second was observing Artemis and the third was watching the glass he was cleaning. "And the menu's been set for years."

"C'mon Charlie," Artemis glanced up to Deacon who didn't seem fazed by the robot's attitude. Artemis, however, wondered if she should cut him off and just order two Gwinnets. "I've been ordering off the menu since that business with... Tightrope." Deacon continued, the code name not familiar with Artemis. She was honestly shocked at what the robot said next.

"Mister Deacon. Changed your face again. I can accommodate your usual, if the payment is right." All three of the Mr. Handy's eyes were focused on Deacon now as he set his rag and glass down. He pulled a pencil off the counter behind him as well as a piece of paper and set it in front of Deacon.

"You'll find this sufficient, pleasure doing business," He scribbled something down before handing both items back to the bar tender.

"As always," Charlie stowed the piece of paper under the bar counter and replaced the pen before pulling out a bottle of whiskey. "Would Mayor Hancock's favorite lady like a chaser?" The robot asked and Artemis smiled, slightly dazzled by Deacon's trick, or whatever it was.

"I wouldn't complain if you had some Nuka Cherry," she said, Deacon moving to her other side and taking a seat next to her. Charlie pulled one of the soda bottles out for Artemis, and then set two glasses before the pair of spies and left them to their own.

"You'll have to show me that trick sometime," Artemis whispered to Deacon before pouring him a small amount of whiskey into a glass.

Deacon picked his glass up, tipped it to Artemis, and then tipped the liquid quickly back into his mouth. "Maybe some other time," Deacon told her with a slight hiss to his voice from the burning alcohol.

Artemis poured him another glass before mixing the whiskey with Nuka Cola in hers.

* * *

She had stopped wearing a bra. Deacon had noticed after a few hours and a whole bottle of whiskey shared between the pair. Artemis was leaned over the bar, her current getup was a Gunner outfit, shredded jeans and a green button up shirt, which just so happened to be missing the third button. The way she was leaning forward brought the shirt tighter around her chest and the missing button caused a separation to form in the material, showing off the underside of her left breast and ribs to Deacon.

Deacon had the sneaking suspicion, as he did his best to keep his forehead in his hand in order to block the sight next to him, that she had to have ripped the button off herself, since it was there yesterday. She had stopped wearing her bra before that, however, at least a week prior. Deacon had definitely noticed the difference in shape and how she moved beneath her shirts when she laughed.

A soft poke to his own ribs made him jolt up and Artemis smiled at him. "You okay, Deeks?" She asked, no longer leaning against the bar so the gap in her shirt was closed.

"Who me?" He asked. "Yeah. Smell in this place is rancid though. Like two mirelurks in their love nest."

"I don't think mirelurks have sex," Artemis mused, taking a sip out of her third Nuka Cherry while leaning against the bar again. Deacon almost didn't catch himself staring. Artemis looked like some post apocalypse, skinny, pinup girl ad for the drink.

"Well... That sucks," Deacon said, wondering why the hell he thought bringing up sex was a good idea.

Artemis laughed at him, "That sucks? Because Mirelurks don't get laid?"

 _Don't say it, don't you fucking say it._ "Not getting laid sucks," he told her, looking as casual as possible but he had never wanted to punch himself in the jaw so hard. He knew for a fact she hadn't had any sex since getting out of the vault. He would have seen it before she came to the Railroad and now every moment they had was spent around each other. Unless she had mastered the art of the two-minute quickie with MacCready or-

"Deacon," Artemis snapped her fingers to get his attention and he realized he had lost himself to the thought of Artemis having sex with other men while repeating "You don't care" in his head like it was his new motto.

"Huh?" He managed, watching the smile fade from her face.

"Are you okay?" She asked him again, actually looking concerned.

"I'm fine. I'm great," he told her as he got out of his seat and made to leave the Third Rail, "I'm heading to bed." Deacon didn't wait for a reaction from her, he practically ran out of the place. They already had their room at the Rexford, but Deacon wasn't sure why he thought it would be his refuge when he saw they only had one bed. _Again_. Ten caps a person and Clair still wouldn't give them two beds or in the least two rooms. Maybe she thought that they were-

"Stop it, Jesus Christ," Deacon said to himself, pacing wildly around the room, feeling his heart trying to escape his chest. He was afraid, he wouldn't deny that. What would happen if he had sex with Artemis and she died? What would happen if he didn't have sex with her and she died? What if she got bored with him after a while? What if she gave up on him and started actually pursuing some other jackass?

Deacon wasn't sure what would hurt worse, Artemis leaving or dying, but he figured he wouldn't survive either. Hell he could barely handle what happened to Barb-

"Fuck," he choked, pressing his forefinger and thumb hard into his eyes from under his sunglasses. Why was he doing this to himself? Why was his mind intent on torturing him?

Deacon's usual solution would be to leave. He could get the hell out of Goodneighbor, get a face change and lay low for a while... But he knew that he couldn't erase twelve years. He couldn't get over the five he had off and on with his dead wife. Artemis being alive would just throw another layer on top of the obsession he had. No matter what he did, face change, disappear, lay low in the Mojave for a while, he wouldn't be able to stay away from her.

Deacon was on the bed now, sitting with his arms limp at his side as he stared blindly across the dark room, his cheeks sticky from drying tears. He was slowly realizing he didn't know who he was anymore. The man he used to be would have screwed her and been done with it, let her move on to different things. Deacon wouldn't have gotten involved. After the Switchboard, he would have left her to her own devices, spying on her here and there. This man, however, he had no idea who he was or what he was doing.

He heard someone shuffling down the hallway and his raw eyes, hidden by his sunglasses, looked to the door. He could barely see anything in the dark under his shades, but he was able to make out someone walking down the hallway through the holes in the wall. Deacon kicked off his shoes and laid down on the edge of the bed, flat on his back, sighing before he heard the door creak open.

"Deeks?" Artemis asked the darkness and a green light flooded the room from her wrist. He didn't dare answer her, instead he lay still on the bed, closing his eyes. "Deacon?" Artemis asked again and closed the door.

He heard her walk across the floorboards over to the bed. He heard her sigh before something heavy was set on the dresser near the bed. He heard a zipper then and Deacon felt his mouth dry up, figuring it was her jeans. He heard her boots get kicked off and fabric falling to the floor. He heard Artemis rummaging through their packs and then he heard her shaking out a blanket. He heard the lamp on her Pipboy turn off before he felt the heavy blanket fall over him and the mattress. _And then he felt her crawl on top of him._

The knuckles of his right hand, that lay limp by his side, met the bare skin of Artemis' knee and his heart stopped. "Deacon?" Artemis breathed, still on top of him. Deacon remained silent, fighting his fingers to not twitch and feel more of her skin.

He managed not to respond to her, other than continuing his slow, steady breathing. He felt her weight shift forward and warm lips were pressed to his cheek. "I wish you'd talk to me," she confessed quietly and Deacon was frozen, wondering if she thought he was actually asleep or if she knew he was faking. Either way, she moved off of him and onto the leftover space on the mattress, covering them both with the blanket.

It took Deacon what felt like ages to get up the courage to turn his back to her as she slept next to him, and even longer to fall asleep. When he woke, he felt as if he had only blinked, one second the room was pitch black, the next the sun was shining through the grimy window.

He sat up, feeling stiff from the mattress and not moving last night as he slept as far as possible from Artemis. He dared to take his sunglasses off to rub the sleep from his eyes and clean the lenses on his shirt. When he went to put them back on he noticed Artemis' jeans strewn across the floor with his shoes and hers, as well as a familiar green button up shirt. Deacon froze, his glasses halfway onto his face as he stared at the shirt. The way his heart was beating, he figured, he'd have a heart attack by the end of the week if this kept up.

* * *

"These 'Yow Gees' are pretty tasty when they aren't trying to rip our heads off our shoulders," Artemis mused between licking her fingers and gnawing on one of the ribs she had.

Deacon chuckled at her words, picking at his own Yao Guai ribs. "Are you saying my cooking isn't always up to par?" He teased.

"I'm saying that you should cook Yao Guai more often," Artemis eyed him, sitting on the ground with a blanket covering her shoulders and back. As if she hadn't been torturing Deacon enough with that damn green, button-missing shirt, she was now wearing simply a harness with a thin piece of fabric covering her breasts. Due to this she was colder than normal in the Commonwealth's winter. Deacon didn't know this because Artemis had said so, no. He knew this because her body screamed it at him from beneath that thin fabric.

"Sure. We'll use you as bait," Deacon agreed. Honestly, he would like to avoid all situations like this in the future, and Artemis would have agreed. She watched his smile fade as he continued to eat his share of their dinner.

They had found themselves in an eerily quiet neighborhood, Fairline Hill Estates, and soon found out why it was abandoned. Two huge, irradiated, and bloodthirsty Yao Guai had attacked them out of nowhere and gave the duo a serious run for their money.

"Hey Deeks?" Artemis got his attention after plainly staring at him for a moment or two.

"Hm?" He answered, looking from his food to her from his seat on an old chair.

"Your thoughts?" She asked him.

"I'm just thinking about how terrible of an idea it is to spend the night is a creepy place like this," he answered her, looking around the house they were in. They already did their best barricading the front and back doors, and Artemis had laid a few mines around the neighborhood. They were in the living room of a home now, sat around a lantern and a few candles they had found, with their sleeping bags laid out on an old mattress, ready for them once their dinner was finished.

"Are you scared?" Artemis teased him.

"N-no," Deacon responded in a jokingly terrified manner. "I'm not Travis," he then chuckled again, listlessly tossing one of the Yao Guai rib bones aside.

"Oh we're gonna die!" Artemis did her best impression of Diamond City Radio's DJ.

"It's uh... Diamond City Radio!" Deacon took a crack at it as well, sounding a thousand times more like Travis than Artemis. "Betty Hutton is on now, singin' about a man... Right? Ugh, so stupid!" He continued, watching Artemis erupt into a fit of laughter. "Are you a pistol packin' mama? If so, this song is about youuu!"

"Oh my God," Artemis gasped, burning hot tears stinging her hazel blue eyes. "Next time we're in Diamond City, remind me to stop by and hug Travis okay? We're mean assholes."

"I'm just imitating the media," Deacon said in his own defense. "Besides if you hug him he'll probably have a heart attack or piss himself."

"I'm sorry, did I say we were mean assholes? I meant you are a mean asshole," Artemis shook her head in laughter.

"Sister, you're breaking my heart over here," Deacon said, forcing his voice to sound raspy like Hancock's.

"Really?" Artemis asked him, unable to stop smiling as wide as she was. "Do Nick."

"I'd really rather you not 'Do' me, kid," Deacon did his best matching Nick's low voice, just to hear her laugh. He swore to himself that it wasn't the way her breasts moved beneath that band of fabric.

"Do Codsworth!" Artemis clapped, wondering if she should be amazed or not at how good Deacon's impressions were.

"By jolly, mum, I really don't know what to say," he broke character halfway through to laugh at himself, doubling over and almost falling out of his chair.

"Do Danse, holy shit, do Danse," Artemis choked out her request, laying flat on the ground now.

"What is all this laughter, soldier? This is a no fun zone! Ad Victoriam!" Deacon shouted, trying not to laugh as he did.

"Oh my God, I love it," Artemis said, and realized halfway through the sentence she had meant to say "you". She was able to catch herself, but then wondered why, she surely didn't mean that she loved him, right? Just what Deacon was doing. "MacCready," she said quickly, to distract herself.

"I can't impersonate MacCready," Deacon tried to tell her seriously. "I wouldn't know if I should rob you, fuck you, or kill you."

"What?" Artemis sat up with her eyebrows raised, her smile still prominent. "What are you talking about?"

"You're asking me to impersonate your merc boyfriend," Deacon calmed his own laughter.

 _Oh right_ , Artemis remembered. "He's not my boyfriend," she rolled her eyes and stood from the floor, wrapping the blanket around herself tighter.

" _Sure_ he's not," Deacon smiled knowingly. In all actuality he knew it was fake, it had to be, but hearing her deny it made him feel slightly less... Jealous.

"He's not!" Artemis continued, walking over to the candles and began to blow them out. A bright flash of light preceded a loud clap of thunder by a split second and Artemis couldn't stop herself from jumping.

"I can see the regret on your face, and I have to say that staying in the creepy neighborhood was your idea," Deacon told her, standing up from his chair.

"We could be walking to Diamond City to crash at Piper's in this thunderstorm," Artemis pointed out, leaning down again to continue blowing out the candles.

"This was a great idea, have I told you that already? Fantastic plan," Deacon changed his tone quickly. He walked forward to turn out the lantern and made his way to the mattress, kicking off his shoes lazily and shrugging off his yellow "Minuteman" jacket. He pulled his belt off last and dropped it on the ground next to the mattress before crawling into his sleeping bag.

"You're so damn messy," Artemis said as she watched him.

"Just get over here with the blanket already, this sleeping bag is freezing," Deacon told her, laying on his back, one of his hands under his head and the other resting on his stomach.

Artemis didn't respond verbally but made her way over to him, debating whether or not to sleep in her pants and tube-top, or if she should pull out one of his flannel shirts. As soon as the thought crossed her mind, she knew she was going to wear one of his shirts to bed. She walked over to his pack, tossing the blanket to Deacon before rummaging through his disguises for the shirt she wanted.

"What are you doing?" He asked her, sitting up to try and position the blanket better over himself and the mattress.

"I'm not sleeping in these buckles," Artemis pulled out the shirt, another crack of thunder accompanying a flash of bright light helping her find it. She slipped the harness off of her shoulders, which let the pants fall slightly over her slim waist. With her back to him, she pulled her arms through Deacon's shirt, pulling her tube top down her body and stepping out of it with her pants. She buttoned only a few buttons on the shirt, not bothering to get them done straight and evenly.

Quickly, Artemis made her way under the blanket and into her own sleeping bag, laying on her back next to Deacon, with the blanket up to her mouth. "We would be a lot warmer at Piper's," she mumbled, closing her eyes to the darkness around them, listening to the storm blow in, and thankful the lightening had no green hue.

"Totally would prefer this," Deacon mumbled back before there was silence between them.

The minutes ticked by slowly and Artemis was tired, sure, but she kept her focus on the shirt she was wearing and the man laying less than an inch from her. He was silent, but Artemis doubted that Deacon was asleep.

"Deeks," she whispered to the ceiling, making her voice heard over the howling wind outside.

"Hm?" He mumbled back, turning his sunglass-hidden eyes to her.

"I'm freezing," she told him, turning her head as well. She poked his bare foot with hers and felt his leg jump before he laughed.

"You sure do make a good human popsicle," he joked, knowing that Artemis wouldn't take offense to it.

Artemis still pouted, hoping that he would let her move closer to him. He wasn't too big of a touchy-feely kind of guy, but he also wasn't the kind of guy who would let her freeze. "Ugh, fine," he groaned like it was some kind of big deal, extending his left arm for her.

Artemis moved quickly, pressing her body against Deacon and laying her head on his chest, her own arm wrapping around his side as her knee was drawn up over his thighs. Finally, _finally_ , she was as close to Deacon as she had wanted to be for weeks, months even.

Deacon wrapped his arm around her shoulders and held her there, reassuring Artemis that he wasn't going to change his mind, despite how suddenly invasive she was. "Thanks, Deacon," she mumbled into his shirt.

"Joke's on you, I haven't showered in a month," he stated and Artemis smiled.

"We both bathed yesterday," she pointed out, the smile present in her voice.

"Shh," he chuckled and Artemis laid her ear flat against his chest to hear that sound up close. She closed her eyes, savoring the sound as it died out, giving way to the weather raging outside and Deacon's heartbeat. She could have sworn that it was beating faster than any normal human's heart would beat, especially when lying still. Hell, her own was bruising the inside of her ribs.

Half of her wanted to lay here like this with Deacon, memorize everything from the Abraxo detergent and tobacco smell of his shirt to how many breaths he took, and the other half wanted _more._ She was never greedy, but she couldn't help but want more from this man. She slipped her hand down his torso, stopping when she met his waistband. Her breath hitched and caught in her throat, her lungs freezing as she listened to his heartbeat pick up speed.

Outside, thunder was raging and the air was full of electricity, just like the tips of Violet's fingers as they rest on Deacon's shirt, waistband, and bare skin of his hip bone. Artemis' head had started to spin and she took in a deep, shaky breath, trying to keep her fingers from trembling. She felt Deacon's hand tighten his grip slightly on her shoulder. She wasn't sure if it was him silently asking her to stop or if he was asking for more...

Her fingers slipped beneath the waistband of his pants and to her horror, she felt him pulling her away. She started to apologize but couldn't speak, she couldn't get the first letter out of her lips as her back was pressed into the mattress by Deacon's body, his mouth feverishly kissing hers.

* * *

Artemis' arms gave out first, losing her strength as Deacon slipped out and left her feeling both empty and sated. Never had she been more ready to fall asleep as she collapsed onto the mattress and knotted blanket and sleeping bags. She closed her eyes, waiting for Deacon to fall next to her, waiting to laugh or to just pass out, but he stayed on his knees behind Artemis.

"Wow," she mumbled, the only word she could get her exhausted brain to say.

She was met with silence and slowly opened her eyes, turning to her side to get a read on Deacon, to see what he was doing, and was shocked to find him not there. She turned around quickly and watched him shrug on his "Minuteman" jacket, his glasses already back on his face and a pack of cigarettes in his hand.

Of course, cigarettes after sex, that was something she had been used to over two hundred years ago. Before Deacon opened the front door she pulled the blanket up to her eyes, too tired to get up and find her underwear or to try and button whatever was left of his flannel shirt. Artemis had intended to wait for Deacon to come back, however she had only remained awake long enough for her to wonder why he had decided to smoke outside.

It was the cold that woke her up. Her hazel-blue eyes fluttering open, eyelashes like butterfly wings, to meet the early morning sun. There was no trace of clouds visible through the windows. She blinked and stretched, saying, "That storm passed quickly," before yawning.

She realized something was wrong, her stomach sinking as she realized she was able to stretch completely across the mattress without hitting another body. There was no scent of breakfast, just the cold, crisp, after-rain air and a slightly off putting mold. She couldn't hear anything, the world around her was deathly silent, the natural Commonwealth orchestra.

Artemis sat up, rubbing her eyes and scolding herself for feeling afraid, until she realized the front door was still wide open. She pushed the blanket off of her, the cold air covering her in goose bumps as she stood up to retrieve her glasses. Without any circumspection, Artemis walked to the front door in only the flannel shirt, still unbuttoned and exposing her nakedness to the morning.

The feeling turned to panic as she didn't find Deacon on the front porch. She walked further out of the house, looking around the neighborhood and spotted him two houses over, seated on a lawn chair with his elbows on his knees and his head low. She took a few steps towards him, walking down the street before stopping herself. Deacon didn't look right, he didn't look like he was asleep, or like he was smoking... He looked upset.

Artemis opened her mouth and drew in a breath that had his name on it but it caught in her throat and dispersed into silent and visible vapor. She was shaking and drew the flannel shirt closed, clenching the old fabric in her fists, while staring at him. He lifted his head, titled slightly in her direction and suddenly Artemis was nervous. He didn't give any other indication that he cared she was half naked outside besides sighing. No "Morning beautiful," or even a simple, "Hey, sorry I left the door open like an asshole and left you to freeze to death, naked in our bed."

The next breath she took in stabbed painfully at her lungs, her eyes burning with fresh tears as she stumbled, turning around and walking back into the house she had come from. Stepping through the door she fell onto her knees with a loud sob, covering her mouth after. If Deacon hadn't realized she was crying before, he'd definitely know now. Artemis wasn't sure which was worse, him knowing, or him not caring.

* * *

You can read the uncensored chapter on my profile on AO3, I'm under the same user name and the story has the same title.


	6. Chapter 6

Though Artemis had told herself for the last half mile that she was fine, that she was calm, she still had the red eyes, raw nose, and broken heart to show that she wasn't. The second she stepped into HQ, she regretted her decision not to head to Diamond City and get berated by Piper, or to Goodneighbor and get blind drunk with Hancock.

She realized too late that HQ would raise too many questions about her being alone. Of course, as she shuffled through the crypt almost undetected by the other agents doing diligent work, Desdemona's voice cut through the air, "Wanderer, where's Deacon?"

Artemis stopped mid-step before she tripped over her own two feet. "I dunno," she spoke, her eyes to the ground.

"You don't know?" Desdemona's voice raised slightly.

"Jesus, is he dead?" She heard Dr. Carrington ask from the other side of the large room, obviously noting her tear-stained face. Artemis only shook her head at the dirt floor and shuffled forward, to the rear of the crypt.

"Hey," Glory's voice tried to stop her as she dropped her pack on her unused mattress and struggled to get the bulky winter jacket off of her body. "Wanderer what happened?" Glory leaned up against the wall with her arms crossed.

Artemis didn't answer her as she kicked off her shoes and grimy pants, scrounging through her bag for a clean pair and a fresh shirt. Traveling as far as she did alone led to a lot of dirt and a lot of fights, and she felt filthy. She had felt filthy since she left Fairline Estates without Deacon at her side. She hadn't tried to warn him, she packed up her things and left through the back door of the house, out of Deacon's line of sight.

"Holy shit," she heard Glory whisper sharply, Artemis' back still to her as she changed her shirt.

"What?" Artemis asked her, turning around as she pulled the old white shirt over her head.

"What are those?" Glory pointed to her hips and Artemis twisted, looking down at her body and found dark purple welts, roughly the size of Deacon's hands.

Realizing she had gotten last night's wish, Artemis quickly pulled the shirt down over her waist, before looking back up to Glory with wide eyes. "Glory," she warned, watching Glory's surprise turn into anger.

"He did that?" She asked, and Artemis wasn't sure exactly what Glory was mad about, that her and Deacon had sex, the bruises, or that Artemis had returned alone.

"Glory, don't," Artemis rose her hands, trying to calm HQ's other heavy.

"He did that?" She asked again, "Oh, I'm gonna kill his skinny ass when he gets back to HQ!" She shouted as she turned around and quickly stormed away.

"Glory, wait!" Artemis struggled to get her jeans on so she could follow.

"I'm gonna shove the barrel of my mini gun down his throat the next time I see him," Glory growled as she walked over to the chalkboard and furiously wiped Deacon's name from the surface.

"Okay, _what is going on_?" Desdemona asked, her voice full of authority as she walked over to Glory and Artemis.

Running a hand through her black hair, Artemis sighed. Coming to HQ alone was a horrible idea. "Des-" she began with a sigh.

"Make sure Deacon knows that I'm gonna murder him the next time I see him," Glory held a finger up to Desdemona, cutting off Artemis. "Tell all the tourists and leave notes in all the dead drops."

"Wanderer?" Desdemona asked for an explanation, her arms crossed.

"Um..." Artemis exhaled, her fists clenching to try and avoid the pain and embarrassment she was about to feel from admitting to sleeping with Deacon and then leaving him behind. "Deacon and I..."

Des already looked skeptical, predicting what Artemis was going to say. "What _really_ happened?"

"Why don't you show her the bruises?" Glory suggested, still angry.

"Bruises?" Desdemona's eyebrows rose high onto her forehead and she looked from Glory to Artemis, the guilt plain as day on her face.

"Am I in trouble?" She asked Des' shocked expression.

Des stayed silent for a moment before turning to her left. "Drummer Boy," she called, and the agent slinked out from behind a nearby pillar, looking culpable of eavesdropping. "Put out the dead drops and get Deacon's ass back here," she told him.

"Sure, boss," Drummer Boy agreed before looking to Glory and Artemis.

"And you," Des looked back to Artemis. "Talk to Carrington about possible anemia. We'll discuss this later." Artemis nodded in understanding, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Bruises?" Drummer Boy asked and Artemis hid her reddening face in her hands.

"Not cool," Glory warned him.

"You're the one freaking out and wiping Deacon's name of the board," Drummer Boy shot back. "You okay, Wanderer?"

Artemis nodded, dropping her hands from her face, and remained silent. Drummer Boy reached out and wrapped an arm around her shoulders before looking back to Glory.

"Make sure he knows he's getting his ass handed to him when he gets back," she told Drummer Boy sternly.

* * *

"Here you go, buddy," High Rise said, taking a seat next to Deacon after setting down a mug of black coffee on the table before him.

"Thanks," Deacon took the handle but didn't lift the mug. "You've got to be one of the last agents to have any of this stuff left."

"Been meaning to go out raiding some of the old Slocum's but I've been pretty busy lately," High Rise admitted.

"Best bet is the old HQ, but I don't trust the place," Deacon sighed.

"Yeah, I agree. You gotta have a death wish to go back there."

Deacon lifted the mug then and drank to High Rise's words. "Amen."

"So what's been eating at you?" High Rise tried again, for the hundredth time that month.

"You just don't give up, do you?" Deacon asked forcing half of a fake smile onto his face.

"I know it's something to do with Wanderer, so don't try to weave a tale about synths or rad roaches, or the 'radiation flu' bullshit you came up with last week," High Rise shook his head. Deacon had indeed been hiding out in his home for a month. He hadn't left once, and had to deal with a potentially deadly rumor that he had gone rogue because of a certain heavy in HQ. High Rise didn't mind the extra help however, and he owed Deacon a lifetime of favors anyways all the times he saved his ass.

"My minds drawing a blank here, hold on," Deacon told him, the tips of his fingers tapping on the warm ceramic of his cup. In all reality Deacon was at Ticonderoga because Artemis would eventually show up there, the key word being _eventually_.

"The master liar has nothing to say?" High Rise laughed at him.

"I dunno, she fell in love with me and I broke her heart?" Deacon tried with a shrug.

High Rise had no idea that Deacon wasn't lying to him this time. "As if," he shook his head and drank from his own mug. "You're impossible to love, sorry to say." Deacon knew he was only joking, and he had no idea that he was speaking the truth right back to him. Deacon truly was impossible to love. "You know I can just put out a dead drop asking for a heavy, right? Get you off your lazy ass."

"And what happens when Alpha sends Glory instead of Wanderer?" Deacon asked him.

"You explain yourself and I finally figure out what's bothering you," High Rise suggested, his mug now empty. Deacon quickly caught up to him, both wanting to drink the coffee before it got cold and wake himself up. It was almost four in the morning and Deacon already hadn't slept since the night prior.

"How about I say 'no' and I get to keep my head on my shoulders. I'm quite attached to it," Deacon joked, watching High Rise grab up the mug and take it over to the counter to rinse it off in the barely working sink.

"I dunno, I think you'd look better without it," High Rise chuckled back. Under the low laughter Deacon's ears picked up a sharp " _ding!_ "

Both men were silent for a moment, listening, before High Rise turned off the faucet and pulled his pistol out of his waistband. "What the hell," he mumbled, recognizing the sound as his elevator.

Deacon slipped out of his chair and pulled his own pistol out, flipping the safety off. There was silence for a few more seconds, Deacon trying to convince himself that it wasn't Artemis, like he had all the times before. Except this was different, High Rise shut the power down to the elevator every night, so someone would have needed the password to the terminal below at ground level. They either had to be with HQ or the Institute.

"High Rise!" They both heard Boxer shout and Deacon sprinted out of the room first. Before he was trying to snuff out hope that Artemis had come, and now he was fearful that she actually had, and was in trouble. None of this added up, it couldn't be good.

"Boxer-?" High Rise began to ask as the entered the lobby, thankfully not to a room full of synths. "Shit," he almost ran into Deacon as the man in front of him stopped dead in his tracks.

He possibly would have preferred a shoot out with the Institute, instead he was met with a crippled Artemis, a half conscious Glory, and a whole lot of blood. Artemis was struggling to pull herself and Glory out of the elevator, their weapons and Glory's armor forgotten inside. Artemis met his eyes for a moment, the hazel blue piercing through Deacon's sunglasses. The world froze as Deacon's heart stopped and exploded with an icy cold fear.

The moment passed and while Artemis struggled to get Glory onto her feet, Deacon and High Rise rushed down the steps, meeting up with Boxer. The agent had caught Artemis as she collapsed forward and instead of running to them, Deacon grabbed a hold of Glory before she crumbled onto the floor. In his arms, Glory was covered in a thick coat of blood.

"Get her up stairs now!" High Rise yelled at Deacon, who had once again been frozen by Artemis' gaze. His words were enough to get Deacon moving again. He heard a Stimpak's hiss behind him and tried not to think about the woman he had been waiting for all this time.

"Glory, stay with me," Deacon told her, noticing her eyes rolling back into her head. He got her to where he was heading as High Rise flipped a switch and blinding lights came on in the room. Deacon dropped Glory onto a stretcher under one of the lights and High Rise ran up, wasting little time in tearing Glory's bloody shirt down the middle.

"God, if you weren't gonna kill me before, you are now. Glory look at me," Deacon's hands went to her face to try and wake her up, only to leave bloody hand prints on her cheeks as he lightly slapped her.

"There's blood in a cooler behind you, she's gonna need it," High Rise told Deacon as he tried to clean the blood off of Glory's torso to see what they were dealing with.

* * *

She stuck a cigarette in her mouth and flipped her lighter open. She had to shield the small flame with her free hand as she lit the cigarette, holding the carcinogenic smoke in her mouth. Once she had a reliable ember, she flipped the lighter closed and pulled the cigarette out of her lips, blowing the smoke away from herself. Artemis held the cigarette between two of her fingers then, drawing her knees up to her chin as she watched the tobacco slowly burn away.

"When did you start smoking?" She heard from the door way leading out to the balcony she was on. Artemis had known Deacon was watching her, but she had only known about two seconds before he asked his question.

"I don't smoke," she mumbled back in response, keeping her eyes on the cigarette. Deacon was silent, out of her peripheral sight as she stared at the cigarette, the smoke rising up and dispersing in the chilly, early morning air.

"I brought you a blanket," Deacon tried to get a reaction out of her.

"Thank you," she answered in a monotone. After a moment of his silence she drew in a breath and gathered her courage to look over to him. "How's Glory?" She asked, her eyes scanning over him in a fresh change of clothes, a blanket folded up and held in his arms.

"She's stable," Deacon told her, offering the blanket to her.

"Trade you," Artemis held up her cigarette. Deacon stepped towards her, wary of the edge of the balcony they were on, and traded her the blanket for the cigarette. Instead of stepping back, like Artemis had expected, Deacon took a seat on the ground next to her as he took a drag from the cigarette. She missed that smell so much, detergent and cigarettes, that she wanted to cry.

"I need to talk to you," Deacon started.

"I don't want to talk," Artemis responded quickly, unfolding the over-sized blanket and wrapping it around herself.

Deacon watched her as she tried to avoid him while sitting right next to him. "I have some things I need to tell you before I chicken out."

Artemis turned her head to face him, silently waiting. Deacon took a deep breath in, understanding her silence.

"When I was young, a hell of a long time ago, I was... Well, scum. I was a bigot. A very violent bigot."

Artemis rolled her eyes and looked away from him. "You're trying to sell me more lies, Deacon? Really?" Her tone was filled with more spite than she meant.

With a sigh, Deacon continued. "Just hear me out, make your judgments then." She was upset, but her ears forced her to listen and her heart forced her to be patient.

"I ran with a gang in University Point. We called ourselves the UP Deathclaws. For kicks we'd terrorize anyone that we thought was a Synth," Deacon rubbed the back of his head, holding the cigarette in his mouth. Artemis looked back at him then, her head resting on her knees. "We kept egging each other on. Started with some property damage, graduated to some beat downs. Then, inevitably, a lynching." Deacon drew in smoke from his cigarette and Artemis' eyebrows drew together, realizing that he looked genuinely upset. "The Claw's leader was convinced we'd finally found and killed a Synth. Looking back, I'm not so sure."

"You... Murdered someone?" Artemis asked him, her knees falling away from her as she picked up her head and her back straightened. Sure she had killed people before as well, they both had. Only they had killed in self defense, or protecting innocents. In Artemis' mind, that wasn't murder but self preservation and community service.

"That one was enough for me. It was his eyes... Those eyes haunt me," Deacon finished off the last of his cigarette with a huff and rubbed it out on the ground next to him. "Bulging... So I turned my back on my "brothers"- broke all contact. Time passed, I became a farmer if you can believe that." She couldn't see him as a farmer. Someone as lazy and messy as he was wouldn't last a day on a farm in the Commonwealth. She rose an eyebrow behind her glasses to show that she didn't believe him.

Deacon tried to smile back at her but he couldn't. Instead he pushed on, "Then one day I found someone. She saw something in me that I didn't know what there."

Instantly Artemis felt her heart drop out of her chest and fall the thirty stories to the pavement below them. "Oh," she said softly. It was ridiculous to think Deacon had never been with someone before her, but if he was talking about it and this wasn't bullshit, this "someone" had to be a big deal. "What was she like?" She squeaked out.

"Barbara," Deacon continued as he watched Artemis' reaction, "well, she was... she just _was_. She had a smile like on those old magazine covers. Her eyes..." his whole demeanor changed, just mentioning this other woman's name looked like it helped relieve his nerves. "We were trying for kids. Eking out a living."

His words were a knife stabbing into her heartless chest, and she turned away to keep her pain hidden. "Then one day... Turns out my Barbara... She was a synth. She didn't know that, I certainly didn't. I don't know how the Deathclaws found out. But... There was blood."

Artemis looked back to Deacon then, feeling a whole new pain. It was one thing to know that Deacon had been committed to another woman wholeheartedly, but to know he had seen her die, like she had seen her husband... It almost made her angry that Deacon would have to know what that pain felt like. "They killed her?" She asked him.

Deacon was silent in his response, instead reaching out to her, beckoning her towards him. Artemis couldn't resist but she appeared hesitant, slowly unwrapping the blanket from around herself before crawling into his lap and sitting with her back against his chest. Deacon threw the blanket around himself before wrapping it and his arms around Artemis in a cocoon of warmth.

Deacon held her close to him, both of his arms wrapped around her stomach and waist. He sighed softly into her neck and shoulder as he continued talking in a much quieter tone. "I don't remember much clearly after that. I know I killed most of the Claws. I must have made a big impression. The Railroad contacted me, figuring I'd be sympathetic, seeing that I lost my wife. And, well, what I did afterwards."

"They deserved what you did to them," Artemis reassured him, thinking back to him and Nick helping her take out Kellogg. That felt like such a long time ago now.

"They deserved worse," Deacon tightened his grip around her. The hardest bit to explain to her was still coming and he felt it forming a painful lump in his throat, one he couldn't quite swallow.

"So I figured what the Hell, I'll play spy for them, as long as it kept bigots like the Claws from hurting more people. I stayed with them because no one knew who I was and I kept telling lie after lie. A little over two decades ago, I was the only person to survive an onslaught from the Institute at our HQ, and just barely at that."

Artemis took in a deep breath, leaning back into him and closing her eyes as she listened. "A lot of agents left after that, it was the first real hit the Railroad had taken and I thought about dropping out myself."

"Why didn't you?" Artemis asked him, her voice barely more than a whisper.

"I didn't have anything else. There were twelve, thirteen of us left maybe. Alpha at the time was a man named Wyatt. Was a real reluctant leader but he did a good job. Until he was killed in another attack several years later on Christmas, '73 I think it was. We were better prepared that time.

"The next alpha was complete asshat," Deacon earned a chuckle from Artemis and felt his nervousness subside for a moment. "Went by Pinky. Took me a year and a half to get kicked out of HQ just so I wouldn't have to deal with him directly. Poor Des took most of his shit after, from what I heard."

"You got kicked out of HQ on purpose?" Artemis asked him, turning to try and look at his face. That was a definite Deacon thing to do, so she trusted this part of his story, at least more than him having once been a farmer.

"Best thing to have happened to me at the time. It's when I started getting good with my intel," Deacon explained as he shifted below her, resting his head next to hers on her shoulder. "Learned some interesting rumors, figured out ways to make caps fast, did some exploring... Fell for another girl."

Artemis' squeezed her eyes tightly closed, trying not to wince at his last few words. She had to admit, however, it was fairly strange to be damn well cuddling with Deacon as he continued to recount his love life.

"I shamelessly stalked her," Deacon's voice was shaking slightly, and it didn't slip by Artemis unnoticed, "For... Years. She didn't even know I existed. I leaned everything I could about her, who she was, where she used to live and work and intern... Where she went to school."

A feeling slowly crept up Artemis and she fought it away before it even became a thought. Deacon was lying, he had to be, this was some lesson he was teaching her, he wasn't actually talking about _her_.

"I read all the same books she studied, at least the ones I could find. I even found some mentions of her in old terminals in Cambridge and at the library-"

"Stop it," Artemis cut him off sharply. She wasn't quite sure what she felt, anger, hurt, an overbearing sense of happiness?

"I-I was too scared to let you out of that pod. You were the only constant I had for so long-"

"How long?" Artemis choked, turning around to face him again. She was crying and she still wasn't sure why, unless it was just an overwhelming combination of everything.

It took Deacon ages to get the courage to answer truthfully, trying to gauge the reaction she would have. "Twelve years," he admitted with a heavy sigh.

Artemis' own breath caught in her chest as her mouth fell open. "Tw-t..." she tried to repeat the number but only ended up fumbling over her tongue. She wasn't sure what to do, was she supposed to pull away, was she supposed to yell at him, was she supposed to cry on his shoulder? Deacon was no help, he only stared back at her with his sunglasses and a cross between a scared and sad expression.

"Are you lying to me?" She asked him, moving out of his lap to fully face Deacon.

"No," he responded simply.

"Prove it," she snapped back and Deacon blinked behind his sunglasses.

"Uh..." Deacon started. How would he prove he wasn't lying? He usually had to do close to the opposite. "You married Nate on March first, twenty seventy-seven, you had Shaun three months later on June twelfth, twenty seventy- seven. Uh, you were studying law part time at Suffolk County and if you hadn't gotten pregnant you planned to graduate by twenty eighty-one. Um... You used to work at a The Super Duper Mart in Lexington and that's how you met-"

Artemis had moved forward and gently kissed him. It was upsetting that she had been asleep twelve years longer than she should have been, and it was undoubtedly weird that Deacon could just pull these random facts out of his brain to toss at her, but nobody else in her life would have cared that much. Nobody else would have found her so fascinating.

Artemis crawled back into his lap, facing him this time, with her arms wrapping around his neck. Deacon's own hands moved from her waist to her shoulders and he gently pushed her away.

"Artemis, I... I don't deserve you being okay with this," he tried to tell her firmly. In response she reached up and took the sunglasses off his head, removing them from his eyes. Deacon lost most of his demeanor then and visibly swallowed.

Gently setting down the sunglasses, Artemis quickly asked, "Are you gonna disappear again?"

"That's what I've been trying to get to," he scared her for a split second before continuing, making sure she was looking at him by placing one of his hands on Artemis' cheek. "I can't. I can't leave. I can't deal with losing you... You're the only thing I have."

"Liar," Artemis mumbled, tilting her head into the hand he had on the side of her face.

"You're the only thing that matters," Deacon tried, his thumb gently running across her cheek.

"Such a liar," Artemis continued, closing her eyes and kissing the palm of his hand.

"I need you," he admitted and her blue eyes snapped open to look at him again. "You're the only friend I've got, the only person I fully trust."

"This is a pretty fucked up friendship if this is what you consider 'friends'," Artemis told him and succeeded in making Deacon smile for a moment.

"Hell, I wouldn't ask for more from you... But, I figured you should know."

Artemis watched him, feeling hugely relieved despite everything. "Can't we be more than friends?" She asked him with a false pout, and felt his hand leave her cheek to push her short black hair behind her ear.

"I don't have anything to give you," Deacon admitted and Artemis just smiled at him.

"You can start by wrapping this blanket back around me and letting me complain to you about the shitty night I'm having," she turned back around, sitting in his lap again and pressing her back into his chest.

" _You_ had a shitty night?" Deacon laughed, returning to holding her like he was before, both of his arms wrapped around her with the blanket around them both. "Oh man, I bet you mine was way worse," he teased. Suddenly Deacon was back to his usual self.

Artemis reached down into her pants pocket and pulled out the odd piece of tech she and Glory had nearly died trying to retrieve. "Try me," she said, holding it up for Deacon to see without actually turning to look at him.

"What... What is _that_?" Deacon asked, not giving Artemis the reaction she believed she would receive. His tone was sharp, borderline angry. She turned slightly to look at him then, watching his face go pale. "Is that a fucking Courser chip?" He asked her looking from the tech to her face.

"Yes," she answered, trying to ignore his reaction as she put the chip back into her pocket.

"Hey," one of Deacon's hands pulled her face back up to look at him. "Don't you ever do something that stupid without me again. _Ever_."

"I can kill all the Coursers I want as long as you tag along?" Artemis tested him. His eyes looked dead serious and the way he spoke was something new. She briefly wondered how many times he looked at her like that beneath his sunglasses, if ever.

"You have to use me as your meat shield," he told her, the serious look in his eyes was unwavering.

"Mm," she pretended to think for a moment, "I don't think so."

"At least don't bring _Glory_ with you the next time you decide to take on the Synth killers, okay?" Artemis turned her head back to face the sunrise, something she never thought she and Glory were going to see again just a few hours ago.

"She was the only one who would go with me. We went to the Glowing sea about twelve days ago to find a rogue Institute scientist. Been tracking down a courser for a week now to get that chip for Tom." As Artemis explained she leaned back into Deacon's chest, feeling his arms tighten around her.

"Of course she was the only one. She's the only person who knows what they're doing outside of HQ," Deacon mumbled into her neck, a chill running down his spine with the realization of how close he actually came to losing Artemis for good. This whole thing was so stupid of him, he should have just bit the bullet and went back to HQ the same day Artemis left him at Fairline Hills. "I should have been there, not Glory."

"I don't blame you for what happened," Artemis told him with a sigh, closing her eyes once more. She just wanted to be at peace with the world for that moment.

"I'm sorry," Deacon admitted anyway, mumbling into her neck. Artemis felt the two words send a shock wave down her body and through her legs all the way to her feet. Deacon had definitely noticed the sudden change and kissed her neck, furthering her reaction.

Artemis forced her breathing to be steady as she opened her hazel blue eyes and looked over at him. "This is you being sorry?" She asked him quietly and watched the corners of Deacon's mouth raise into a mischievous smile.

"If you want."


End file.
